Broadrick gave up on the haphazard escape. He must have realized the unlikelihood of it happening. I turned into town and started for the neighborhood I'd been exploring before Lainey called. Clues didn't wait around forever.

The address I scoped out earlier differed from the address Ace Ross listed on the bed-and-breakfast sign-in form. I wanted to ask why he'd lie, but the man was a criminal-a dead one. Lying had a top spot in their playbook. It left questions, though. How did a dead guy have two different addresses? Who paid his rent? Did crime really pay that well? Did I need a career change?

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel and thought about it.

No.

I'd be a horrible criminal. None of them followed the rules.

Sure, I broke the rules too but only the stupid ones. Or the ones that kept me from catching a bad guy. Or rules that were obviously invented by a man. Those rules didn't pertain to me.

A nasty batch of clouds were coming in from the ocean, and I worried they meant snow. Or rain. This time of year, it could be anything. As long as it didn't shut down the city and keep me from crime fighting, I could handle it.

"Do you think it's weird that a criminal lied?" I asked Broadrick as he fiddled with his phone.

He popped his head up and stared. Probably at the sudden topic change, but if he wanted to hang around me, he had to learn to go with it. "I need to know the context of the question before I answer."

Smart man. I stopped at the corner and waited for a car to turn. "The dead guy listed two unique addresses. One he used to sign in at the bed-and-breakfast and the other they had in his file at the morgue from his license."

"I think it's weird that a criminal knows two addresses at all," he said and returned to his phone.

What a weird thing to say. Did he think that because criminals lacked memory capacity?

I lost my chance to ask as I parked on the curb in front of the place we needed to investigate. "Okay, I've got a plan. We walk up the block a few houses and then slip into the woods at the dead-end sign. We'll circle around and scope out the house from the backside. I have my lock kit with me."

His funky eyebrow raised and highlighted his green eyes with the random brown flecks. "It's my job to keep you out of jail. Remember?"

I turned off the car and pocketed the keys. "We won't go in unless no one's home." Obviously.

"What if they come home?"

I unlocked the doors. "We'll hide."

Duh.

This wasn't rocket science.

Broadrick locked the doors from his side. "That's your worst idea yet."

"It wasn't an idea. It was a plan."

How dare he insult my plan and call it an idea? Plan indicated I'd put thought into it and found a solution. An idea was a thought process you were still working on.

Broadrick locked the doors again, even though I hadn't tried to unlock them. "Babe, it's a shit plan."

I crossed my arms. Just because he was a super genius who graduated early, looked hot in anything he wore, and spent a few years as a super spy SEAL did not mean he got to call my plan shit.

We both sat there in silence until my fingers twitched, and I had to resist the urge to jump out of the car. "Well, I'm waiting for this amazing plan you've come up with then, B."

He chuckled. The nerve of the man. "We're just going to walk to the front door and knock."

I whipped my head in his direction so far it hurt. I probably tore a tendon. Did you have tendons in your neck? "That's your brilliant plan?"

"Yeah." His head bobbed along. "We've been parked in front of the house for at least five minutes now, and you're suspicious."

My mouth dropped open. "I am not suspicious."

Who pooped in his Cheerios, and why was I getting the brunt of his attitude?

"This is me keeping you out of jail."

I unlocked the doors, and this time he left them that way. We met at the hood of the car as Broadrick zipped up his black puffy jacket. "Fine. If you're so smart, what is our reason for knocking?"

Broadrick swiped back his dark auburn hair and pulled a small black book from inside his coat. "We're here to tell them the good news."

"You brought a Bible?" Was he just walking around with a Bible on him at all times?

Broadrick slapped the book against his palm and then opened it to the middle. "It's my planner."

I stole it from him and flipped the pages in a rush. He had dates written out and everything. I saw notes for his mom's birthday in August. "And you just carry it around on you at all times?"

He nodded and stole the book from me. "That's the point of the planner. It's easier to use than a bunch of random papers."

What the hell. "Seriously, dude. You need a nap." First, he knocked my planning skills and then my list-taking skills. "Let's get on with your boring-as-hell plan."

Broadrick led the way, and as he stopped in front of the door to knock, I stood off to the side and peered in the windows.

"B, look," I said and tried to tug on the sleeve of his coat but missed.

He knocked again.

I leaned to the side to make sure I didn't miss a room full of furniture. "Broadrick, it's empty."

He stopped with his hand raised. "They might be in the shower."

"No, I mean, the house is empty. Look." I moved over so he had room to see.

The room visible past the window had shining hardwood floors and bright white walls. "Not the usual hovel you find criminal types living in."

From the size of the place, it had to be at least a twelve-hundred-square-foot home. "How did he afford this place?" I could barely make rent on my cheap rental. Shit, I guess crime really did pay.

Maybe I really did need to reconsider this criminal thing?

Naw, I still couldn't do it. Even for a kickass place.

"Vonnie!" my voice being called from somewhere behind us caused me to spin and catch the person in the act.

Uncle Richard Green stood at the end of a driveway with a handful of mail. He waved, and I raised my hand slowly to wave back so he didn't get suspicious. It was too late to pretend I hadn't seen him and sneak around the back of the home to break in. Plus, Broadrick might say no to that new idea since I hadn't perfected it to plan status.

"Is that your uncle?" Broadrick asked as he raised his hand and waved.

My uncle crossed the road. "Shit. We have to intercept him."

I pushed past Broadrick and jumped down the three short steps of the porch to meet my uncle in the middle of the street. "Uncle Richard, what are you doing here?"

He gave me a quick hug. "I live here."

My eyes widened and my gaze followed the line of the driveway behind him, right to the house he and my aunt had lived in for the last twenty-some years.

"I knew this road felt familiar."

Broadrick groaned beside me but thankfully kept it quiet enough my uncle didn't hear.

"What are you doing on my side of town?" my uncle asked and slapped my upper arm with his stack of mail.

I rubbed at the spot for good measure. "We're just stopping in to visit a friend. You remember Broadrick?" I asked to get some of the attention off our visit.

"Do you know when the house became vacant?" Broadrick asked my uncle, sounding businesslike and as if we weren't here for a friendly chat.

My uncle narrowed his eyes at Broadrick, and the wind whipped some of his graying blond hair into a mess on top of his head. "I thought you said you were friends."

"Yeah, Broadrick. You told me this was your friend's place," I said, casting him a questioning glare. We weren't both going down for this.

He had to swim out of the shark-infested waters on his own.

Broadrick didn't even flinch. "We lost touch after he left the military."

Ohh good one. Later, I'd give him props... if he stopped annoying the crap out of me with his vague insults.

My uncle cast his gaze at the house and then shivered as the cold hit his uncovered arms. He'd obviously not worn out a coat to just grab the mail. "We never saw the person come or go, honestly. I like the neighbors quiet like that. Hopefully, you get in touch with your friend at their next place."

"Yeah, I'm sure he will. Anyway, we have to go, so I guess I'll see you around," I said, stepping backward to be closer to the car. Why were goodbyes always awkward?

My uncle grabbed on to my arm. "No, of course not. We can't have your mother finding out you were here, and I didn't feed you. Come inside. I'll have Claire set another place at the table for you. Tonight is meatloaf night."

My stomach rolled, and I tried to pull my hand free. "No, we don't want to be a bother. Right, Broadrick?"

He raised that stupid eyebrow.

"Right?" I tried to nudge him, but my uncle had a death grip on my arm and wasn't letting me budge.

"We can't be this close and not stop in to say hi to Aunt Claire," Broadrick said.